


Say This Without Breaking

by QueenSabriel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Braime - Freeform, F/M, One Shot, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: ”Let me imagine it would be possible. Just for a moment.”Jaime and Brienne steal some time during the siege of Riverrun.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 242





	Say This Without Breaking

“This is war, it isn’t about what I want.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It _isn’t_.” Jaime looked at Brienne for a long, hard moment then turned and walked to the rickety little table where someone had left a pitcher of wine and several cups. He busied himself filling two of them, no longer spilling, deftly steadying the cup with his golden hand as he poured with his left. Outside it had begun to rain, meaning they were in for an unpleasantly cold and damp night, even for the riverlands. Turning finally, Jaime held out one cup to her. “What you’re suggesting would have me go against the orders of my king.”

Brienne hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping around the table to take the cup from him. “Your king,” she said quietly, “or your sister?”

Jaime’s eyes flashed. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s a fair question,” she said. 

Lifting his own cup to his lips, Jaime took a long drink then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I must take Riverrun one way or another.”

“Exactly,” Brienne said. “One way _or another_. Let me convince the Blackfish to turn Riverrun over to you, in exchange you will allow me to bring him and the Tully forces north.”

In response Jaime laughed, but one corner of his lip curled derisively. He knew he was being cruel but, seven hells, this whole damned siege felt like a child’s squabble to him. Yet he couldn’t say that. He wanted to give Brienne what she was asking for, if only to be done with this, if only to return to King’s Landing. 

He couldn’t say any of that either. 

What he _did _say was, “I’m sorry, have you ever met the Blackfish? Have you ever met any Tully?”

“Of course I did. I knew Lady Catelyn.”

“Yes, _exactly_,” Jaime said. He swallowed another mouthful of wine. “Lady Catelyn, who started at least half this damn mess by capturing my brother.”

Brienne gave him a disgusted look, lowering the cup she had been about to drink from. 

“Don’t throw that at me, it’s good wine,” Jaime said.

“You cannot possibly believe that,” Brienne said, lowly. 

“I absolutely believe this is good wine.”

Her nostrils flared and she let out a frustrated scoff. “You _know_ what I meant.”

Jaime looked at her for a long moment, then the humor faded from his expression. “I do. And you’re right. But she certainly didn’t help things, did she?”

“What is your point here, Ser?”

“My point, Lady Brienne,” Jaime said. “Is that the Blackfish is not going to listen to you. You could waltz in there and offer him a castle full of gold and a dozen fair maids to tend to him and he would still refuse.”

“_Family, duty, honor_,” Brienne recited. “Lady Sansa is his family. His duty is to respond to his family’s request.”

“Gods,” Jaime sighed, draining his cup and setting it down heavily. “How can you possibly believe things are so simple?” He rubbed the back of his head, walking a few paces down the length of the tent then back to her. The rain was coming heavier now, the steady drum of it on the canvas above their heads drowning out the evening sounds of the camp outside. “You know what will happen when he refuses, don’t you? I’ll have no choice but to attack. And you are sworn to Lady Sansa and her kin.”

The corners of Brienne’s mouth turned down in displeasure, her brow furrowing. She said nothing, and instead lifted her cup to her lips and drained it. When Jaime reached for the cup to refill it she said, “I shouldn’t...”

“You shouldn’t even be here speaking with me right now,” Jaime said, taking and refilling the cup anyway. “But here we are. Perhaps for the last time.”

“Does that mean you will allow me to speak with the Blackfish?”

“I shouldn’t,” Jaime murmured.

“But here you are.”

“But here I am,” he said, handing her cup back to her. “And here you are, wench.”

Brienne stared at him, expression stony and unamused. 

Jaime cracked a lopsided grin. “This is where you say ‘my name is...’ and I say ‘Brienne, I know.’”

“You aren’t that clever, you know,” she said, doing a poor job hiding just how difficult it was to keep frowning by taking another drink. “Or funny.”

“I beg your pardon,” Jaime said. “I am incredibly funny. Hilarious, even.”

“You are a _child_,” she said.

Jaime made a great show of pretending to crane his head back to look her in the eye. “I certainly feel one beside you.”

Brienne punched him in the shoulder. 

“Careful,” Jaime said, stepping back and rubbing his shoulder though the blow barely smarted. “Some men may take that as a challenge.” He grinned again. “Of one sort or another.”

“And I may punch you again,” Brienne said, but she smiled, just a little. “So perhaps it is best I take my leave. Podrick is waiting for me.” 

“What of it?” Jaime said. “Do you let your squire dictate your curfew? Or has he become your nursemaid?” Perhaps he had pushed too far then, Brienne’s amusement faded as swiftly as the moon disappearing behind clouds. Recognizing that look, he reached out to grasp her arm. “Brienne, wait...”

She turned her arm, tugging it out of his grasp. “Yes, Ser Jaime?”

“I’m...” He gestured, a bit helplessly, with his golden hand. “I’m sorry. For all of this.”

Brienne let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “For _all of this_? What? Everything _your family_ has done in the past six years? The past twenty years? Is that what ‘all’ you’re sorry for? Gods, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds, even _trying_ to apologize now? Were you not the one mocking me a moment ago for believing things could be so simple?”

“I only meant...” But he trailed off again.

“What?”

Again, staring, words failing him. Silence, save for the sound of the rain, the occasional shout of raucous laughter from the camp, the irritated nickering of horses. Jaime forced himself to look at her. “I’m sorry things _aren’t_ more simple,” he said quietly. “I truly am.”

For a moment Brienne looked baffled, tilting her head to the side, brows knit, then just as quickly it seemed to turn to...what? Fear? 

_ No, Gods, please _ , Jaime thought. _I won’t be able to bear it if she’s afraid of me as well._

When he took a step closer to her she did not step back, but she did shake her head, slowly. “Stop it.”

“Brienne.” Jaime reached out and closed his hand around her arm.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, not pulling away, though she looked as though she knew it was what she _should_ be doing. “Let _go_.”

Jaime let go. They were standing so close now that he could see her pulse in her throat, just below the corner of her jaw. 

“You cannot do this,” she whispered, and for a moment her voice and her expression cracked and beneath them whatever that raw, aching person she kept locked away showed through. “Jaime. You can’t. Not now. Not when there’s absolutely nothing to be done about it. It isn’t _fair_!” 

He reached up, waiting for her to step back, to turn away, but she didn’t, and so he lay his hand on her cheek, her flushed skin warm under his palm. “And yet here we are,” he murmured

“You’re a bastard,” she whispered. “You’re Jaime _fucking_ Lannister and I am...I’m...nothing. Why are you doing this?”

“Because you are absolutely _not_ nothing,” he said. Their faces were close enough now that Jaime could feel her breath on his lips, but he did not close the distance, instead hovering, waiting, holding his own breath, waiting, and only when two, three, four heartbeats had passed and Brienne did not pull away did he finally press his lips to hers. 

She returned the kiss for only a moment before putting a hand on his chest. “Tell me this is a joke,” she said roughly. “That would hurt less.”

“It would be a lie,” he breathed, sliding his hand from her cheek into her short hair, pulling her in to kiss her again. Her kisses were not soft, were inexperienced, but she started to reciprocate, one of her hands clutching the material of his doublet. 

Catching his lower lip between her teeth for just the briefest moment she then breathed, “What are we doing?”

“Going on my past life experience,” Jaime murmured. “I’d say we’re about to have sex.”

She scowled and tried half-heartedly to push his face away. “We can’t.”

“We can. Half the camp probably thinks we’re in here fucking anyway.”

Brienne’s cheeks flushed even more and her face twisted in a look of equal parts longing and worry and annoyance. “You cannot truly want…”

Jaime raised an eyebrow at her. Without breaking eye contact he found her hand and drew it down his body, pressing it between his legs so she could feel him, feel his length hard and pressing against the material of his breeches. “I can tell you I really do,” he whispered. 

“_Oh._” Brienne made a sound low in the back of her throat. She held his gaze for half a heartbeat, then kissed him, fierce and open-mouthed, pushing him back against the edge of the table with such eagerness that Jaime laughed against her lips. 

“No, bed, corner,” he murmured, pulling her back and then down onto the soft pile of furs and blankets. 

There was a brief moment then, Jaime sitting on the edge of the bed, Brienne straddling his lap as they kissed again and again, and he wrapped his arms around her, folding her to his chest, her arms on his shoulders and fingers tangling in his hair, where it felt like she belonged there, like the most right, most correct thing in the world. 

Jaime gently nudged her to sit back a little, resting his hand against her chest, fingers moving to the fastenings of her jerkin. She started to help, but he whispered lowly, “No, let me.”

Brienne let her hands fall to his sides, her eyes half closing. 

Using the side of his hand to hold the material down, Jaime undid the fastenings, then let her shrug the garment off. When he moved to push her tunic up and over her head she hesitated, just briefly, and when she did finally let him remove it she made a movement as though she were about to fold her arms over her small breasts but stopped herself. 

Jaime made a soft, encouraging noise, letting his fingers brush over the lines of her muscles, the scars that crosshatched her pale skin. He stroked her breast, cupped it in his palm, kissed her again, felt her gasp into his mouth. 

Gaining confidence, Brienne slid her hands down his chest, fingers working into lacing, tugging at it with a note of desperation, pausing their frantic kisses only to push doublet and tunic off over her head. 

“You’d think you never saw me naked before,” Jaime said when she hesitated, her hands hovering. 

Brienne huffed, wrapping her arm around him, clutching at his hair to pull him into a bruising kiss with a muttered, “Shut up.”

Jaime laughed, but this quickly turned to a quiet groan when Brienne rocked involuntarily against him. He flipped them over then, arm around her waist, laying her down on her back. Then they were both fumbling with the ties of their breeches, Jaime’s breath catching each time her fingers brushed against him, and a moment later they were kicking the last of their clothing off. 

Leaning his weight against his right forearm, Jaime drew his hand down between Brienne’s legs, finding her already wet for him, and when he slipped his finger into her sex she gasped and arched against him so abruptly he thought he may finish her before they had even begun. 

“_Gods,_” she groaned, clearly fighting to keep her voice low. “Jaime, _Jaime_, please—!”

He kissed her, swallowing the sounds she was making as he eased another finger in, coaxing and spreading her, feeling her skin hot against his and the way she trembled with each movement of his hand. 

Then she was pressing her lips to his ear to breathe, “I want you, I want you, please, Jaime…”

She _would _be his undoing, he was certain, that voice of hers breathless and wanting, her fingers digging into his shoulders so hard he could feel her blunt nails biting at his skin. 

He slid his fingers out, making her gasp again, and then a moment later when he finally, _finally, gods, _pushed himself inside her, she clamped one hand over her mouth as though to stifle a sound, but she made none, pushing her head back into the pillows. 

Jaime hesitated, whispering, “Are you all right?”

Brienne, eyes squeezed shut, hand still over her mouth, nodded, gripping at his hair with her other hand. 

“You need to breathe,” Jaime murmured. “There’s no hurry.” Other parts of his body disagreed, but they could wait.

For a second neither of them moved, then Jaime could feel her starting to relax beneath and around him, and he pushed a little deeper the next time, and now Brienne let out low moan, moving her hand from her mouth so she could kiss him again. 

Then it was them tangling together, moving together, lips on skin and fingers clutching at hair, closing around wrists, bodies pushing, Jaime feeling that deep ache within him and the tight heat of her around him, nearly out of his mind with need. 

At some point, when he was so close he thought he would break, Brienne pressed her lips to his ear once more to whisper, “_I love you._”

_ No _ , he thought, even as he kissed her, even as he felt her sob against his lips as she came, even as he gave one last thrust of his hips and spilled into her with a desperate moan, _no, you do not want to say that. Please, Brienne. You deserve so much more. _

When he finally slipped out of her, however, Jaime kissed her sweetly and brushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead, letting his fingers linger against her cheek. 

He started to say something, but Brienne put her own fingers against his mouth. 

“Don’t,” she said. “I’m enjoying the moment. I don’t want to hear anything clever.”

“I’d say something not clever but I don’t think I’m capable of that,” Jaime murmured against her hand. 

Brienne squeezed her eyes shut, laughing, and lightly slapped him. “Gods, I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said a moment ago.”

The laughter stopped, the smile gone. Brienne opened her eyes and gazed up at him, her lips pursed, her expression so sad that Jaime immediately wished he hadn’t said anything. 

“Forgive me,” he sighed. 

“Let me imagine it would be possible,” Brienne said quietly. “Just for a moment.”

Jaime rested his forehead against hers. “It will only hurt more in the end.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, pressing a light, sad kiss to his lips. “I don’t care.”

He closed his eyes. In here it was just them, and outside the rain, the camp, the siege, all of it. The war. King’s Landing. All of it stretched out like a black crag opening between them, driving them further apart and there was absolutely nothing to be done. 

But for now, just for a moment they could pretend. His body still warm, starting to relax, Jaime wrapped his arms around her and moved off of her, holding Brienne to his chest, and she curled into him with a quiet sigh. 

Forgive me, he thought. Forgive me, my lady. 

_ Forgive me. _

_ I love you.  _


End file.
